


Everybody Hurts

by notjustmom



Series: Everybody Hurts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Song fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 6,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some song fics based on the Sherlock and John from my 'An Alternative Universe' story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

It wasn't until he had been home a week that they started.  
He thought he was stronger than the memories.  
Immune from what had been done to him.  
It wasn't until he woke up in a cold sweat, wondering why  
John was holding him so tightly.

"You were screaming, in Serbian?"  
Oh god. I thought I had deleted Serbia.  
"I'm sorry if I woke you up."  
"You didn't. I, uhm, don't sleep that much."  
"How long?"  
Silence.  
"John?"  
"Tell me."  
"Since you've been back."  
I didn't know.  
"Why didn't you say anything?"  
"What good would it do?"  
"I don't know! Should I...?"  
"Don't."  
"Wouldn't you be bett-"  
"No. Don't you dare."  
"Why-"  
"On our own we barely survive. It's only together that we are almost whole. We are sherlockandjohn, johnandsherlock, thebakerstreetboys, tea and biscuits....  
"Okay, okay."  
"Want me to stay here tonight?"  
"If you wish."  
"I'll get the chair."  
"John, don't be ridiculous, it's a King sized bed, enough for both of us."  
"Sure?"  
"Do I ever say anything I don't mean?"  
"No."  
"Mind if we leave the lamp on?"  
"No."  
"Night, John."  
"Night."


	2. Here Comes the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
> And I say it's all right
> 
> Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter  
> Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here...

They argued over the better version:  
"The Beatles version is obviously more inline with the intent-"  
"Oh come on! You know Nina's is more, just more-"  
"...sentiment? Really, John? Your mother sang along with Nina while she made dinn-"  
"Drop it. Please, just this once?"  
"...and it was played at your father's...oh. Damn. I'm sorry, John."  
"Forget it, please, Sherlock."  
"No. John, forgive me, it's been so long since I could safely dedu-"  
"I know, can we drop it, please? I don't want to talk about them right now, maybe another time?"  
"Of course, John. Isn't there a Bond movie on?"  
"Yes, you arse, go get a couple of ales from the fridge and we'll watch it. You hate this one, but you hate them all, generally speaking."  
They turned the movie on and drank beer together as the rain continued, the rain that never seemed to end that Spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nina Simone:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2XCgcxsvTg
> 
> Beatles:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5E_zXbmrlM


	3. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know what I was waiting for  
> And my time was running wild  
> A million dead-end streets...  
> 

He sat in his chair, in his pondering  
posture, robe, tshirt and pajama bottoms  
waiting for...  
what, exactly, he wasn't quite sure.  
Moran, obviously, but after?  
What then? He could already tell he was  
in no condition either mentally or physically  
to just pick up from where he had left things...  
His hair colour was only one of the many  
changes he felt about himself, and the hair  
could change back if he were lucky.  
His Mind Palace felt like it had been burned down  
to its very foundation, very little of what  
he thought made him 'him' remained.  
Even all 243 ash samples...all lost in the rubble...  
He would be seen as a hero or a fraud or possibly  
a mythical figure, regardless, he could no  
longer live in his bubble of playing detective  
with John by his side.  
What was he without the Work? He no longer  
had to struggle to get through each day  
as he had the last two years.  
He could sit and think for hours,  
or attempt to play the violin  
(when his fingers healed, if they ever did)  
he could get samples from Molly  
and hide body parts in random areas of  
the kitchen, that used to be fun...  
Maybe when he stopped being so damned  
tired he could contemplate what or where  
he should be.


	4. Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're weary, feeling small,  
> When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;  
> I'm on your side. When times get rough  
> And friends just can't be found,  
> Like a bridge over troubled water  
> I will lay me down.  
> Like a bridge over troubled water  
> I will lay me down...

Sherlock watched his flatmate sleep on the couch next to him, amazed by his patience and overwhelming kindness. Who does that? He wondered. What made him give up a normal life to wait for someone who may never return. He almost hadn't made it back at all, there were times when he wished he had given up, just stayed dead. But somehow, he knew in his gut that John was waiting, for whatever reasons he had...

"You are thinking way too loud," grumbled his friend, who yawned, stretched and knocked his shoulder somewhat back into place. "You would have done the same for me, without a second thought."

"I know, but for me? No one has ever believed in me as much as you do. I'm not a good person, I'm rude, obnox--"

"Stop it, right now. You took one look at me and found something salvageable in a broken, angry, unemployable surgeon with trust issues, and gave me purpose, a reason to put myself back together. No one took the chance on me when I got back. But you did. Normal? When was I ever going to be satisfied with 'normal' after you? Now, try to go back to sleep, yeah? Then later we'll get some take-away?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favourite songs ever, I have a few, but this ranks in my top five.
> 
> Simon and Garfunkel  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4G-YQA_bsOU


	5. Have you ever seen the rain?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone told me long ago  
> There's a calm before the storm,  
> I know; it's been comin' for some time.  
> When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day,  
> I know; shinin' down like water...

It was all over.  
He could sleep for days if he wished.  
The press had been notified  
of his 'return from the dead.'  
He could walk to the morgue,  
beat on some corpses if he so chose  
in fact Molly called saying there was an  
interesting case on her table at the moment  
if he wanted to attend the autopsy.  
He couldn't play his violin,  
his fingers hadn't healed yet.  
There was a spot on his back that should have  
been stitched up months ago, it was itching  
like crazy...  
But, he got up, took a shower, bypassed the mirror  
knowing he wouldn't recognize the person there.  
Put on a black shirt, black suit, threw on his shoes,  
everything hung too loosely still.  
His coat and scarf were waiting by the door, and even  
though it was sunny, he was freezing, so wrapped  
himself up and walked onto Baker Street.  
He had been home ten days.  
He had finally persuaded John to go back to work,  
he didn't need a bodyguard or nursemaid now.  
The rain had stopped, the only storm that remained  
was the one that was raging in his head.  
He squinted at the late April sun, pulled his collar up  
and started walking, no destination in mind,  
eventually making his way to the duck pond,  
where he sat and found himself  
reflecting on the face he saw in the water  
and wondered how to begin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CCR:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu2pVPWGYMQ


	6. Kathy's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hear the drizzle of the rain  
> Like a memory it falls  
> Soft and warm continuing  
> Tapping on my roof and walls...

set a year after the Fall:

It had been a year  
he awoke to rain smacking  
the sidewalk, not a sweet, gentle shower  
but the kind of rain that is cold,  
soul sucking dampness  
that renders umbrellas  
laughable  
he had almost forgotten  
he had made two cups of tea for the first time  
in months  
he almost expected  
to see his friend stretched  
out on the couch  
expectantly waiting  
for him  
but, he opened the door  
to retrieve the paper  
and was instantly  
brought back to earth  
the headline shouted of his friend's  
vindication, his name was cleared  
of any wrongdoing.  
It was almost as painful  
as the first few days  
when he still woke  
up screaming at his friend  
not to jump.  
In black and white  
he had been declared innocent  
forgiven for wrongs not committed  
yet still dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon & Garfunkel  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXZyDtzDJMY


	7. Four Seasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four Seasons  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRxofEmo3HA

John opened the door to 221B and was blasted by Vivaldi.   
Four Seasons bounced off the walls and rattled the windows.   
Sherlock's fingers had still not healed, John wasn't even sure if he would ever be able to hold a bow properly again, so he found refuge in losing himself in recordings.   
This time he didn't wear the headphones,   
he wanted to be surrounded by the music,  
he wanted to drown in it.

"Sherlock!"  
"SHERLOCK!!!"  
"Hmmm? Oh, John, sorry. I, uhm, didn't hear you come in," he grinned sheepishly.  
"Really?" John laughed as he turned down the music to normal human levels.

Sherlock stretched his hands and glared at them.  
"I tried to play today. I still can't bend my fingers enough to..."  
John sat on the couch next to him. "I can give you some exercises that may help?"  
"Maybe it's the price I'm paying."  
"For what?"  
"You don't want to know, John." He sighed and rolled into the couch, hiding his face.

"Go get dressed, we are going out tonight."  
"What?"  
"We haven't been to Angelo's since you've been back."  
"John..."  
"I'm serious, get up, go get dressed or I'll put on some awful American Country Music."  
"You wouldn't dare!" Sherlock's eyes flash.  
"Try me!" John challenges him with a look.  
"Alriiiight. You win, but just so you know, this is blackmail, pure and simple."  
"I know. Go on, our reservations are in 20 minutes."  
"Arse."


	8. Four Seasons (cont.)

Sherlock approached the door to Angelo's with trepidation. He remembered the first time he took John there, and took a deep breath.  
"C'mon, Sherlock, and you will eat this time."  
He nodded, as he opened the door, jingling the bell.  
"SHERLOCK!" Angelo's voice ricocheted all over the tiny dining area.  
"Angelo..."  
He didn't have a chance to say anything else as he was crushed in a hug.  
"Your usual table is waiting for you, I couldn't believe it when I saw the papers..."  
"He'll have the lasagne, and I'll have my regular," said John, interrupting their friend.  
"You got it!" Angelo vanished with a grin.  
"You still came here, after?" Sherlock asked.  
"Course, still needed my Italian fix once in a while; Angelo liked having someone to talk to about you, and I didn't mind."  
Sherlock looked down at his hands, "I wish there had been another way..."  
John turned from the window and took his friend's hands. "Don't do this to yourself. I know if you could have found some other way, you would have done it. You did what you felt you had to do to keep us safe, you know I would have willingly gone with you but..."  
"You didn't want to be there, John. I can never tell you all of it. I don't want to go back there, I can't."  
"I don't want you to, I hear you at night still; all I need to know is that you are back and you are still you, even if you don't believe it yet."  
They stopped talking as their food arrived. Sherlock had forgotten how good it smelled; he simply sat and breathed it in.  
"John."  
"I know, eat it before it gets cold."  
They took their time, speaking very little, shared a bottle of wine gifted to them by Angelo, who drank a small glass to celebrate Sherlock's return, and even managed a tiramisu between them.  
"Thank you, John." Sherlock stood slowly from the table.  
John nodded, "Thank you, my friend."  
They walked out together, both humming a bit of Summer as they made their way back to Baker Street.


	9. Bohemian Rhapsody

He slid down the wall  
managing to remember  
the safety on the gun  
before he dropped it  
no serial numbers  
no fingerprints  
the body was cleaned up  
this hadn't happened  
but it had  
he had disappeared his first job  
the man who had been hired  
to kill Lestrade was gone  
removed  
he looked at his hands  
once they had been violinist hands  
hands of a scientist  
now they had taken a life  
how had John done it?  
that was different  
how was it different?  
John was in a war  
he killed to survive  
to protect his team  
to get home  
it's the same  
isn't it?  
Isn't it?

He woke up, a crumpled paper in his hand. "Gone to get milk, tea, back in ten minutes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bohemian Rhapsody:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ


	10. Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello darkness, my old friend  
> I’ve come to talk with you again  
> Because a vision softly creeping  
> Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
> And the vision that was planted in my brain  
> Still remains  
> Within the sound of silence...

John was out again, a pint with Lestrade.  
He was always invited, he just never saw the point, and the noise,  
the pointless, common chatter made his head hurt.  
So, he was out on the roof, smoking the one cigarette  
he allowed himself when he was bored.

It wasn't silence he was after, just space, distance  
from people. People always wanted or needed something.

John understood in his way. After the end of a case, successful  
or not, John gave him time and room to settle.

Sometimes he would throw on the Belstaff and scarf and walk  
until he couldn't walk anymore, then he would return, cold  
and hungry, and John would be at the flat, waiting with tea,  
or maybe Indian takeaway, and make room for him on the couch.

Other nights, he would fiddle with his microscope, bang around  
with his beakers and test tubes until John looked up at him  
and would ask, "Bored?"  
He would nod, and John would get out the old book of Grimm fairy tales  
and read them aloud, while Sherlock rested his head in his lap, and John  
would run his fingers through his curls until he fell asleep.

Tonight, he went back inside, brushed his teeth and took  
a shower, though he knew that John knew that he snuck a smoke  
once in a while. But he never said a word.

He threw on his old t shirt, pajama bottoms and robe, and waited  
for the text he knew John would send:

"Need anything? Headed home."

"Nope."

Tonight, he threw together a risotto; the stirring of the rice with the oil and the wine and the herbs and Parmesan cheese put him in a reflective mood. John never knew he could cook, he just never saw much point usually. But tonight, he wanted to give something back, a small gift, perhaps? Appreciation? Token of friendship? He wasn't sure. But it was reward enough when John opened the door to the flat and followed his nose to the kitchen.

"God, that smells amazing! Where did you learn to do that?"

"Mum thought I should know a few basics before I went away to school."

"I'll have to send her a thank you note."

John looked up at him and silently asked him if he was alright. Sherlock simply nodded, then went off to bed.


	11. Lean On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes in our lives  
> We all have pain, we all have sorrow  
> But if we are wise  
> We know that there's always tomorrow...

Sherlock looked up as John entered the room.  
"What?"  
"That was Harry."  
Damn.  
"What has she done this time?"  
"Nothing. Our mum died last night."  
"Your mum?"  
"Yeah...she stopped talking to me long before I met you, it was complicated."  
Sherlock took a breath as if to deduce something brilliant, then looked at John and realized he was on the edge of a panic attack, and dropped the slide he was about to look at.  
"John."  
"I should have been there. I should have tried harder..."  
"Breathe for me, slowly. I know you did everything you could."  
"I was young, when Dad died I left for Med School then the Military. She never forgave me."

John was barely standing on his own. Sherlock was never quite sure how to do these things, but he grabbed his friend's hand and led him to the couch. He sat down and somehow got John settled so his head rested in Sherlock's lap. He had never done this before, John was always the one who knew how to do this. He ran his fingers through John's silvery ash coloured hair, sitting as still as possible, simply waiting until he could feel his friend shaking with sobs. Sherlock thought it through and had no answers, logic couldn't help him, so he wrapped his arms around his friend and held him until he felt him fall asleep.

An hour later John woke up, trying to remember where he was, when he felt Sherlock's left hand resting on his shoulder, and heard his flatmate texting with the other.

"Got a case?"  
"It can wait. It's only a 6."  
"Sherlock."  
"I ordered your favourite dishes from that Ethiopian place you like, there's a match on soon, the case can wait."  
"You don't have to do this. I can do this on my own."  
"Why?"  
"Why what?"  
"You are not alone, John."  
"Sherlock, you don't do this stuff."  
"I've been doing 'this stuff' ever since I met you, John. You just don't pay attention."  
"Damn. I'm sorry, Sherlock. Thank you."  
"No. Thank you, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill Withers:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEXQkrllGbA&index=12&list=RD9CQEZeCBFjE


	12. I am a Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A winter’s day  
> In a deep and dark December  
> I am alone  
> Gazing from my window  
> To the streets below  
> On a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow  
> I am a rock  
> I am an island...

Christmas Eve.  
He sat and watched John  
tap out a Christmas post  
on the blog.  
It was snowing  
there was a fire in the fireplace  
Mrs. Hudson had brought up  
an enormous roast beast  
and Yorkshire pud, with all  
the trimmings. He held up the tumbler  
of scotch and watched the amber glow  
fight with the flames, blues and reds  
dancing in front of his eyes.  
He recalled where he had been last year  
at this same time, then stopped.  
Last year, no one knew where  
he was; only one person believed  
he was still alive, still of this world.  
He looked over at John again and caught him  
watching him. He didn't look away, he nodded,  
put his laptop down, and walked across the rug  
to stand in front of Sherlock.  
"I know we don't say these things to each other, but  
I want, no, I need to tell you how very glad I am that  
you are here. I need you to know that I am here as long as  
you want me here. You are loved and necessary, Sherlock."  
Sherlock was grateful for the low light of the fire,  
as he couldn't hide the river that flowed out of eyes.  
He stood, quivering slightly, as his blogger wrapped him  
in a strong embrace that threatened to break him in pieces.  
"You are loved and necessary, Sherlock."  
"As are you, my friend."  
"Happy Christmas, Sherlock."  
"Happy Christmas, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon & Garfunkel:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKlSVNxLB-A


	13. Don't let the sun go down on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't light no more of your darkness  
> All my pictures seem to fade to black and white  
> I'm growing tired and time stands still before me  
> Frozen here on the ladder of my life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shortly before the first chapter of "An Alternative Universe".

The face that looked  
back at him wasn't really his  
anymore. He didn't even know  
if he should go back, what if...  
what if John had left, gone on with his life  
without him. Even if he was still at Baker Street  
he would never forgive him for lying to him,  
how could he?

He wasn't even the same person anymore,  
the strut had disappeared, the arrogance that kept  
him above everything had vanished with his third kill,  
he had been outnumbered and barely made it out,  
escaping to an alley, one shoulder dislocated, wrist  
sprained at the very least. He realized he wasn't superhuman  
anymore, he was just an assassin in a hoodie, no  
matter the why behind it, that's what he had become.

He pulled out the one memento from his old life,  
the photo Molly had taken of John in that  
ridiculous Christmas sweater, the night Irene had 'died'  
the first time. He was grinning at something, and had  
looked up just as Molly had taken the shot. It had been  
folded and hidden away, faded enough that no one could  
identify the man in the photo. John was the only reason  
he had survived this long, he rubbed his fingers over it, then  
placed it back in his sock.

He pulled the hoodie back over his head, and turned out the light,  
one more job, then he could go home.


	14. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
> Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
> All your life  
> You were only waiting for this moment to arise...

"Here, Vi, maybe the bees will think you are a garden."  
Sherlock finished folding the last daisy into the crown,  
they were looking up at the blue sky, grass staining  
her wedding dress, and his morning coat and trousers.

He carefully placed the circle of flowers in her hair  
and grinned at her.

"I'm proud of you, Vi."  
She turned and looked at him.  
"Why? What have I ever done, 'Lock?"  
He stops smiling, and sits up.  
"Vi, you have just married  
a lovely, warm, caring, human person,  
who obviously worships the ground  
you walk on; you are a generous teacher;  
you create beautiful music; you were  
brave enough to admit you needed me  
in your life; and above all, my sweet sister,  
you are still here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6c2kJrWqZqc


	15. Desperado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?  
> You been out ridin' fences for so long now  
> Oh, you're a hard one  
> I know that you got your reasons  
> These things that are pleasin' you  
> Can hurt you somehow...

A year after Sherlock's return

 

"Sherlock!"  
"No...please...he's my friend..."

"John. Please, wake up? I'm here. John?

"Please...let me through."

"John, stop. I'm here. I'm going to touch you, ok?"

"Sherlock? Where are you?"

"I'm here. I'm next to your bed, can you hear me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Open your eyes, I'm right here, I'm going to touch your hand, yeah?"

John opens his eyes slowly, to find his friend kneeling at his bedside.  
"Sorry, Sherlock. I have this thing for anniversaries. You came back a year today. I realized it yesterday, when I made tea, I looked at the calendar..."

"Ah, that explains all the texting when I went out to do that paperwork for Lestrade."

John runs his hands through his hair and rubs his face.  
"Could you, uhm, sleep in here tonight?  
I think we might sleep better if I know where you are."

"Of course."  
Sherlock climbs into the bed, and wraps himself around his best friend.  
"I'm trying to forget most of what happened  
while I was away,  
but there were moments, when I had time,  
time to look at the stars, and I knew, I knew you could tell me  
what constellations I was looking at.  
The stars were leading me home somehow.  
A year ago today, I couldn't see the stars  
because I had made it back to London,  
it was cloudy and raining. All I could think  
of was being home."

He feels John relax into his chest,  
and knows he is asleep.  
"I'm here, John. I'm not going anywhere,  
I promise."  
He tightens his arms around his friend  
and falls asleep to the quiet of his  
breathing and the sound of the rain hitting  
the windows.


	16. I can see clearly now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,  
> I can see all obstacles in my way  
> Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind  
> It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)  
> Sun-Shiny day...

"Are you sure?"  
"I have to do it some day."  
"Why?"  
"Isn't closure a thing?"  
"Do you want me to come with you?"  
"No."  
"I can-"  
"No. They are my ghosts, I need to bury them."

John nodded, and went to chat with Mike.  
Sherlock turned off the microscope, put on his coat, and climbed the stairs to the roof.  
He opened the door, expecting to feel something.  
Nothing. It was a roof. That's all.  
A couple of pigeons flew off as he walked towards the ledge.  
He stopped and glanced up. Not a cloud in the sky.  
He shook out a cigarette, lit it and watched as it burned itself out.  
The ashes fell from his long fingers and he took a deep breath.  
He was not the same person who went off the roof three years earlier.  
How was he different?  
He wasn't quite sure.  
He knew he was better at forgiveness,  
perhaps because he knew  
he needed to be forgiven.  
He knew he was no longer alone.  
No longer lonely.  
There was a difference, he knew that...

"Are you ok?" a text from John interrupted his train of thought.  
"Fine."  
"Dinner?"  
"Chinese?"  
"Perfect."  
"Five minutes?"  
"I'll be in the lab."

He glanced upwards again and sighed.  
The ghosts had been kind today.  
He nodded to their vanishing images  
and strolled back to the stairs.


	17. Teach your children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You who are on the road  
> Must have a code that you can live by  
> And so become yourself  
> Because the past is just a good bye...

"Mum?"  
"Hmmmm?"  
"Mum!"  
"Oh, Sherlock, yes, dear?"  
"The ceremony? It's about to begin, may I escort you to your seat?"  
"Yes, of course...I was just thinking..."  
He knows she is going to tell him anyway, so:  
"Thinking about....?"  
"When you and Vi were children, I always knew both of you were safe as long as you had each other. You were inseparable...I wish I had been stronger..."  
"Mum, not today, please? We are fine. In your own ludicrous way, you gave her back to me, and no matter what else you do, I will always love you for that."  
"Really?"  
He nods and squeezes her hand. "Truly. Now, let's get her married, yeah?"  
She kisses him on the cheek, and he leads her across the lawn to the chairs surrounded by the gardens that are in full bloom.  
She takes her place next to Mycroft, and watches her daughter-in-law wait for Violet to arrive. Annie isn't nervous. No biting of her lip or bouncing on her toes, she stands straight and almost serene as she looks at the small gathering, all wondering who she is that has the courage to marry a Holmes.  
Suddenly, the music changes, to a piece Sherlock wrote for the couple, announcing the bride and her brother, arm in arm, grinning at each other as he walks her to Annie. He kisses Annie, then his sister, then finds his seat next to John.  
She finds herself wishing, then stops as she notices that John has his arm draped around Sherlock's shoulder. "He's alright, Lizzie. He is not alone anymore. Leave it be. It's enough,"  
she thinks to herself.  
She catches Sherlock's eye and he smiles at her. "It's more than enough."


	18. Let it be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I find myself in times of trouble  
> Mother Mary comes to me  
> Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.  
> And in my hour of darkness  
> She is standing right in front of me  
> Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.  
> Let it be, let it be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out even angstier than I intended, sorry.

"No. Not again...god...please!"  
" 'Lock?"  
"Nooooooo!"  
"Sherlock!"  
A sob escapes from him, he rolls over and falls back to sleep.  
Violet takes the book from his fingers and covers him with a throw.  
She sits and watches him sleep, his hands balled in fists, his jaw tight,  
as if readying himself for a fight.  
She stands and walks over to the piano,  
and remembers how much he loved 'Let It Be'.  
As a kid, he would lock himself in his room and play it over and over  
until he fell asleep on those bad days.  
She begins to play quietly, but quickly loses herself in the music, so doesn't  
hear him get off the couch and slide next to her on the bench.

"And when the broken hearted people  
Living in the world agree,  
There will be an answer, let it be.  
For though they may be parted there is  
Still a chance that they will see  
There will be an answer, let it be..."

He leans on her shoulder, singing softly as she plays.  
As she finishes playing, he asks, "again, please, Vi?"

She nods, and they sing together as they used to.  
When she stops, she looks at him and he shakes his head.  
"It's enough that you are here, Vi. There are things  
in my head I don't even understand, I can't-"

"Shhhh, I know. Annie wants to know everything  
about me, but there are pieces of me that are so  
broken I can't inflict them on her- I know. Truly."

"Vi, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't. Don't you dare. You weren't responsible,'Lock.  
You did all you could, and paid the price for it."  
He shook his head and buries his face in her lap.  
"Sweetie, a lot of my damage was self-inflicted,  
I wasted a lot of time blaming other people, but I  
never, ever blamed you. Look at me, please?"

He raises his head and she wipes his eyes,  
"I am so lucky that you are my brother.  
Don't you know that?  
I am so glad that you are still here."

She holds on to him as he finally lets go,  
lets go of everything. He sobs silently at first,  
then the words that he can't stop flow out  
mostly in languages she didn't even know that  
he knew. But, she understands enough and just  
holds on. Soon, she is crying with him, for both  
of them, for what they had taken from them,  
and just keeps holding on tight.


	19. When I'm 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I get older losing my hair  
> Many years from now  
> Will you still be sending me a valentine  
> Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?  
> If I'd been out till quarter to three  
> Would you lock the door?  
> Will you still need me, will you still feed me  
> When I'm sixty-four...

"Didn't you ever want a family, John?"

Silence.

"John?"

Traffic noises can be heard on Baker Street...

"Can you imagine me with a kid, Sherlock?"

"Not what I asked."

"I suppose, before I went to Afghanistan-"

"You could still have children, you can't possibly be satisfied with-"

"With what?"

"Me, here, us?"

"Have I ever given you a reason to think you aren't enough, we aren't enough?"

"No, but-"

"You are the only family I need, Sherlock, yeah?"

Sherlock nods and whistles a bit as he goes back to adding a post to his blog that only John will read.


	20. Hey Jude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey Jude, don't make it bad  
> Take a sad song and make it better  
> Remember to let her into your heart  
> Then you can start to make it better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene will make more sense if you have read the 'Priory School/Charles Augustus Milverton' reboot in my Alternative Universe fic.

" 'Lock?" Violet knelt by him as he started to wake up in his chair.

"Hmmm, oh, Vi- What time is it? Where's John?" He sat up and stretched, feeling joints pop back into place.

"It's two in the afternoon, sleepyhead, John went for take-away and milk."

"Are you and Annie okay?"

"We are working on it, we'll be fine."

"Good."

"Are we okay? Myc told me-"

"You went to see Myc? Why?"

"Uhm.... I was worried and I wanted him to stop you from confronting Milverton, he told me that you knew everything and to let you-"

"After we ran into Frankie on the Fleetwood case, I started remembering- I had been working on a case that was leading to Milverton before I left...the day we dropped Daphne off, I returned here and found a file on my computer, it was a collection of photos I had somehow stolen from Milverton's 'treasures' and realized-"

" 'Lock-I-" Violet looked down at the floor, afraid to see his eyes.

"Vi, don't, please, don't ever believe I could ever be ashamed of you." He gently raised her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I-"

"No. Please. Without you and Frankie, I would have died where we found Daphne. I never would have met John. We were different people then, love. We were just trying to find something to make us stop feeling. Anything. Yes?"

Vi nods her head.

"If you need my forgiveness, you have it, for what I'm not sure. For surviving?"

"But why go after Milverton?"

"To feel something? Since I've been back, I've been tentative and numb. I did things when I was away that I had to pack away and forget or I can't breathe, let alone function. When I was working the Milverton case, I finally felt like myself again, and when I remembered what he had on you, it just gave me added incentive to stop him."

"So you don't hate me?"

"Love, look in my eyes, what do you see?"

Violet held his face in her hands and looked in his eyes. "We aren't a sad song anymore, are we 'Lock?"

"No, Vi. You are allowed to be happy, you are loved, sweetie."

"I'm so tired, 'Lock."

"Come on, naptime." He led her to the couch. He sat, then patted the place next to him, and she stretched out, her head in his lap, and he sang her their song til she fell asleep:

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad  
Take a sad song and make it better  
Remember to let her into your heart  
Then you can start to make it better..."

When John returned ten minutes later, he found them both asleep, Violet holding onto Sherlock's hand, his other hand in her hair. He shook his head and threw a duvet over them and put the milk away.


	21. Comfortably Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> Is there anybody in there?  
> Just nod if you can hear me.  
> Is there anyone at home...

"Damn."  
"Damn, damn, damn."  
Sherlock sat up in a cold sweat  
and found John sleeping next to him again.  
Which meant another nightmare.  
Again.  
He'd been home over a year,  
and still.  
Still, his mind was a minefield.  
During the day he could somehow  
dull the visions, numb the parts  
damaged beyond repair.  
At night, the faces wouldn't leave him alone.  
He quietly left the room so not  
to disturb John, and turned on the shower,  
hoping the white noise would blank everything out.  
Ten minutes later, he felt John's hand  
on his shoulder.  
"What was it this time?" he whispered.  
"Your father. Violet...."  
"I'm sorry, John. I honestly don't know why-"  
"I stay?"  
He nodded.  
"Because you didn't give up on me, and  
you are my home."  
"I'm a mess, John. Still. I should be stronger-"  
"Sherlock, you are the strongest person I know."  
"No-"  
"Yes. Yes, you are.  
"I just wish I could sleep."  
"I know."  
"How do you-"  
"I still have nights when they come."  
"But-"  
"Those are the nights when I sit in the chair  
next to your bed; drink some good scotch  
and read some le Carre-  
just in case you need me."  
"John-"  
"We are both bloody messes, Sherlock;  
I'm guessing we'd probably be dead without  
the other. So, perhaps we should just  
continue as we are?"  
John helped him from the bathroom floor  
and held him gently for a moment.  
"There's a Bond marathon on, I know nothing  
puts you to sleep faster."  
John felt his friend shake in laughter;  
"Connery or Moore?"  
"Brosnan."  
"Oooooh, my favourite."  
"I think I just heard you roll your eyes,  
is that even possible?"  
Sherlock stepped back  
and cleared his throat.  
"No, it isn't, you just know  
me too well, John."  
They spent the next 8 hours  
curled up on the couch,  
saving one another from  
their dreams.


	22. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to me as we go  
> As we roll down this unfamiliar road  
> And although this wave (wave) is stringing us along
> 
> Just know you're not alone  
> 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home...

what did he mean  
"you are my home?"  
Sherlock thought as he tried  
to go to sleep-  
I've never had a home,  
not really except  
with John  
why?  
why is that?  
what?  
home isn't a place  
he realized  
it's not a chair  
or table,  
not the seventeen steps  
or the lopsided knocker  
it's the peace  
the knowledge  
that someone  
waits for me  
behind the knocker  
at the top of the 17 steps  
who knows me  
and still  
stays.


	23. Ode to Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ode to Joy Flash mob  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87qT5BOl2XU
> 
> one of my most favourite videos ever :)
> 
> a fluffy songfic for once, just having a fluffy day :)

He woke up reveling in the awareness  
of being home, the scent of tea  
and Mrs Hudson's lemon scented polish  
wafted through the flat,  
though she never 'dusted.'  
For once, he had slept,  
without the disjointed images  
and ghosts...  
He put his head out the window  
and heard a cellist busking outside  
within walking distance,  
so he threw on his coat and scarf and  
grabbed his case and went in search  
of the musician.  
He found an older gentleman, dressed  
in well-made but frayed formal wear, highly  
polished shoes and a weathered top hat served  
to collect the few pounds that were  
thrown in his direction.  
"May I?" Sherlock nodded at his case  
after the man had finished his piece.  
He smiled, and Sherlock removed  
his violin and waited to see what  
the cellist would play. He began slowly,  
then Sherlock realized it was Beethoven's 9th.  
He almost laughed aloud, but  
joined in and felt ridiculously...happy?  
Was that possible?  
A few onlookers stopped  
to watch and listen, as they reached  
the words of Ode to Joy,  
the cellist stopped and began  
singing in German:

"O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!  
Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen,  
und freudenvollere.

Freude!  
Freude!"

Sherlock played through as  
the cellist continued singing,  
other voices joined in, but in  
English:

"Be embraced, you millions!  
This kiss is for the whole world!  
Brothers, above the canopy of stars  
must dwell a loving father.  
Do you bow down before Him, you millions?  
Do you sense your Creator, o world?  
Seek Him above the canopy of stars!  
He must dwell beyond the stars."

The cellist bowed to the audience  
and to Sherlock as the piece ended.  
The audience departed after filling  
the top hat to the brim, but Sherlock  
and the cellist spent the afternoon  
playing and chatting away in German,  
stopping only as darkness settled  
in. Sherlock bowed to his partner  
and made to pack up and leave,  
but the man grabbed him and held  
him in a tight embrace. At first,  
Sherlock flinched, then took a breath  
and held on tightly.

"Thank you, my friend," the cellist  
managed to recall his bits of English,  
"You are very much like my son  
who is no longer here. I miss him-"

"I am honoured, sir," returned Sherlock.  
"I hope we may play again soon."

"It will be my pleasure."

When John returned that evening from  
a long shift, he found Sherlock playing at  
the window, composing a new piece  
not the mournful, dark pieces like before,  
but lighter and hopeful.

"Good day?"  
Sherlock nodded.  
"I heard there were a couple of guys  
who played Beethoven's Ninth a couple  
of blocks from he-no...."  
All Sherlock could do was laugh.  
"It was a fine day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation of the bits of German, hopefully it is correct, swiping from wikipedia:
> 
> Oh friends, not these sounds!  
> Let us instead strike up more pleasing  
> and more joyful ones!
> 
> Joy!  
> Joy!


	24. Chasing Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll do it all  
> Everything  
> On our own
> 
> We don't need  
> Anything  
> Or anyone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the train ride to Cambridge...and a bit of a crib from the Christmas Special ;)

Why did say I say yes?  
I owe him.  
The only person I owe anything to.  
Did I love him?  
There was that one moment  
we were looking up at the stars  
he almost touched my hand  
I almost reached out  
couldn't  
didn't  
too late  
I saw the moment  
it was too late.  
John-  
He knows  
readying himself  
to face...what?  
a rival?  
the person who made me  
who I am now?  
John-  
no one made me-  
I made me.


	25. Just the Way You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't go changing to try and please me  
> You never let me down before  
> Don't imagine you're too familiar  
> And I don't see you anymore
> 
> I wouldn't leave you in times of trouble  
> We never could have come this far  
> I took the good times; I'll take the bad times  
> I'll take you just the way you are..."
> 
> -Billy Joel

"No....no....not again!"

"Sherlock, shhhh...can you hear me? It's John, you are home, you are at Baker Street. Shhh..."

"Damnit!"

Sherlock opened his eyes to find John next to him, stroking his sweat drenched curls, finally back to their original shade, without 'assistance' as Anna called his discreet trips to his hairstylist to have his roots done. He thought after two years, the nightmares would be done with him, but every once in a while, after a rough case, not enough sleep, or a trigger would invite the images at night.

"What was it this time?" John asked quietly.

"I passed a new Greek restaurant yesterday? I don't know, John. Honestly. Maybe something on the news? I know I've had a few too many late nights recently, but damnit."

"Hey, I still have nightmares, love. And we don't even need to talk about how old some of my stuff is."

"Why, John?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you stay, John?"

"Shit. We've done this dance before, Sherlock. Honestly? You want to know why I stay?"

"Yes. Honestly."

"At this point in my life, no one else could put up with me. You have spoiled me for anyone else. You know all my baggage, all of my crap, you know it by line and verse, you could write a dissertation based on my shoulder alone. You know how I take my tea, my favourite take-away places, the violin pieces that prevent nightmares from starting. And I get to get to play cops and robbers a couple of times a week if I'm lucky. Why would I give that up?"

"Arse."

"Git. Why do you think I stay? I stay because I can't imagine not being by your side. You are the person who drives me crazy and soothes my soul. You are my best friend and the absolute love of my life in all the ways that matter. Look at me. Uh-uh, really look at me, damnit. You know when I'm lying. I'm a terrible liar. Tell me, am I lying to you now?"

Sherlock sighed and brushed his damp curls from his eyes and took John's face in his hands. He looked at his face for a full minute, then shook his head. "No, John. You aren't lying. I just wish..."

"What?"

"I wish you really knew how much you mean to me."

"Oh, Sherlock. I do, truly. You could have given up so many times, but you fought to be here, with us. For me, for Anna, we would be utterly lost without you. Do you know that? Oh, love. Lie back down here and I will tell you the story of how a certain bad ass former surgeon met a brilliant consulting detective....should put you to sleep in no time."

"I do love you."

"I know. Now...it was on 28...January..."

"29."

"29? Are you sure?"

"I will never forget that day, John."

"I know. Me either...go to sleep..." 'Mike, can I borrow your phone....' "

" '...there's no signal on mine...' "

"The words that changed my life."

"Night, John."

John turned off the light and held his best friend in his arms as they both fell asleep.


	26. Love is All you Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's nothing you can make that can't be made  
> No one you can save that can't be saved  
> Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time  
> It's easy...
> 
> All you need is love  
> All you need is love  
> All you need is love, love  
> Love is all you need..."
> 
> McCartney and Lennon

There were days, long days, when no one spoke, no one moved, or painted or played, doctored or deduced. Anna would call these their 'missing days." Even John, perhaps especially John, would be lost to his memories, seemingly stuck, unable to do anything other than turn off the phones, the telly and the lights and make pot after pot of tea, which no one drank; the silence and darkness were necessary, necessary to being absent from the world for a few hours.

Usually Anna would emerge from her cocoon first, blink awake to the first bits of light and realize they had made it again. In spite of everything, they were still here, still breathing, still together.

She would find her boys, always side by side, sometimes asleep; but, most of the time, just existing, just breathing next to each other, but not able to sleep, afraid of the dreams that would find them if they went there.

"Hamish...Sherlock, I'm going to go out and get some take-away, yeah? I'm starving, and I know both of you will need to eat soon."

Slowly, wordlessly, Sherlock would reach out for John's hand, in gratitude, in love and in understanding. John would find his fingers in the dark, bring them to his lips and kiss them softly.

"I'm here, love."

There would be mountains of noodles, egg rolls, Hunan beef and the little shrimp things that Sherlock could live on, if John would let him, when they emerged an hour or two later; Anna was already attacking her newest wall, or finding a movie for them to watch. She would nod to them and let them slip quietly back into the world, the phones would be turned back on shortly, the violin would soon be tuned and plucked, and John would make a fresh pot of tea and sit, simply sit and breathe, in and out. Sometimes breathing wasn't so boring. Sometimes it was enough.


End file.
